


The Future Is Bulletproof (the Aftermath Is Secondary)

by CitrusVanille



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Schmoop, Semi-secret relationship, Sharpy being Sharpy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: The thing is, Jonny hasn’t decided to propose yet.





	The Future Is Bulletproof (the Aftermath Is Secondary)

The thing is, Jonny hasn’t decided to propose yet. He may have vaguely mentioned it the last time he was home – said that it’s something he’s been thinking about – and it’s possible his mother got a little teary eyed, but he didn’t think it really needed to be a big deal. Only then she’d cornered him before he headed back to Chicago to press the small box into his hand, telling him it was her mother’s, and there was no pressure, of course, but she wanted him to have it, when the time came. And now Jonny _can’t stop thinking about it_.

It’s a beautiful ring, delicate platinum set with diamonds. Jonny’s thought about putting the stones in a different setting, has actually done some research on it and knows it’s a common enough practice, but he likes it the way it is, and has considered maybe, possibly, just getting a chain for it. It’s easier, somehow, to focus on the details of what to do with the ring rather than on what to actually _do_ with the ring.

It’s not that Jonny doesn’t want to get married. He’s always figured he would, in the hazy someday that was the future. And he doesn’t exactly think the future is now, but he feels. Ready. On the edge of settled, anyway, ready to _be_ settled. It just makes sense, at this point. He can’t see his life with anyone else, and waiting seems unnecessary, so he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t go after this thing with both hands, the way he has everything else he’s wanted. Things have turned out pretty well so far.

Thinking about actually proposing, though, is causing a certain amount of stress that Jonny isn’t entirely prepared to deal with. Probably, he should stop thinking about it entirely, and just do the thing. But.

It’s not that Jonny thinks Patrick will say no. Except for how that’s exactly what he’s worried about. They haven’t talked about it in any serious way, and he maybe isn’t quite as sure as he wants to be. Patrick hasn’t given any indication he’s unhappy – not with being in a relationship with Jonny, at any rate, he is loud and clear about his displeasure with anything and everything from the Sedins’ collective face (Jonny agrees) to Jonny’s tendency to kick his socks off in the middle of the night and not pick them up in the morning (Jonny’s pretty sure Patrick’s overreacting on that one) – and he hasn’t seemed opposed to any of the forward steps they’ve taken so far. But. _But_.

They’re not officially out. That’s another thing they haven’t talked about in a serious way, not since the beginning, when they were still unsure what they were doing, and decided it would be better to keep it to themselves. Their families know, now, and a scant handful of other people, but that’s it. Jonny thinks maybe that should be something they talk about before words like _marriage_ start to get thrown around, doesn’t like the idea of more cameras in his face, but likes the idea of trying to keep their marriage a secret even less.

So Jonny has been carrying his grandmother’s engagement ring around with him, trying to work up the nerve to do _something_ , and he’s going to blame his mother for the fact that he can’t even just leave it at home like a normal person while he pointedly does not panic about what he’s doing. He just. What if the time comes, like she said, and he doesn’t have the ring with him? What if the perfect moment arrives, and he’s not ready? At least he’s not carrying it in his pocket, or something, he’s not quite ready for that, and, with his luck, it would fall out and either be lost forever or, worse, Patrick would see it and be so embarrassed that Jonny can’t even manage to hold onto a ring, he’d break up with him on the spot. It’s possible Jonny’s panicking just a little.

And then he’s panicking more than a little, because his bag is _not in his room where he left it_.

Jonny knocks perfunctorily on the door connecting his room to Patrick’s, and then pushes it open. “Did you move my bag?” he asks when he spots Patrick sprawled across the bed, laptop open next to him.

“No?” Patrick gives him a look that says all too clearly that Jonny’s being stupid. Jonny _knows_ he’s being stupid. That doesn’t change anything.

“Did you see anyone else move my bag?”

“Still no.” Patrick looks pointedly at the door Jonny had opened, and then back at Jonny.

“Did –” Jonny starts, but Patrick cuts him off.

“Dude. Chill. It was probably just Sharpy being a dick.” Which, fair, it’s almost always Sharpy being a dick. “Just go bang on his door until he gives you your underwear or whatever back.” Patrick waggles his eyebrows. “Not that you need them tonight, baby,” he says in his most over-the-top obnoxious voice, and does the horrible leer thing he seems to think is attractive but mostly just makes him look like a molerat (Shawzy pulled up pictures, once, from that kids’ cartoon, which looked about right, only then Jonny looked up the real thing – which was definitely not the same – and was vaguely traumatized, and he can’t ever unsee it).

Jonny has to take a moment to process the fact that _this_ is the guy he wants to marry. Maybe. Probably. Pretty definitely. Absolutely definitely, and what is wrong with him? There is obviously something wrong in Jonny’s brain, why has his mother entrusted him with his grandmother’s ring? Obviously there is something wrong in her brain, too, maybe it’s genetic, and now he has to go beat Sharpy up to get this ring back, because, “Marry me.”

Patrick’s face freezes for a second, then the leer drops off and his eyes get wide. “What?”

“I.” Jonny stops. “I’m doing this wrong,” he says. “Don’t move.” And then he practically bolts back through his own room and out into the hall.

It takes approximately five seconds of pounding on the door before Sharpy yanks it open, fast enough that Jonny almost hits him in the face.

“You’d have deserved it,” Jonny tells him when Sharpy gives him an indignant look. “Where’s my bag?”

“My wife is very fond of my face unpunched.” Sharpy steps back, lets Jonny push his way inside. “Good luck explaining to her if you ruin it for her.”

“She’d get over it. My bag?”

“Speaking of wives –” Sharpy grins, shark-like, and Jonny checks him back into the closed door. Sharpy just laughs. “That’s some pretty bauble you’re keeping in there.”

Jonny shoves him a little harder against the door. “Don’t fuck with me on this, Sharp,” Jonny has no patience for this right now. “That’s my grandmother’s ring, and my mother will kill me if anything happens to it.”

Sharpy laughs again. “Relax, Captain Serious. I didn’t hurt your ring.” He jerks his chin over Jonny’s shoulder. “It’s still safe and snug with your water bottles.”

“Right.” Jonny gives Sharpy a little extra shove, just to make his point, and steps away. His bag is sitting open on the bed, clearly pawed through, the ring box sitting right on top, and a video camera on the duvet next to it. “The fuck is this?” Jonny asks, picking up the camera, barely refraining from grabbing the ring up and clutching at it.

“Just making some memories,” Sharpy smiles beatifically at him.

It takes more effort than it probably should not to throw the camera at a wall or shove Sharpy back into the door. “Who are you showing this to?” Jonny demands, shakes the camera a little.

Sharpy eyes him, and Jonny has no idea what he sees, but at least he’s stopped laughing. “No one, Tazer,” he says finally, voice serious for once. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Jonny snaps. Sharpy raises an elegant eyebrow, but doesn’t call him on the lie. “I am,” Jonny insists, and throws the camera at him to prove it. “Stay out of my stuff.” He zips his bag shut, shoving the ring box into his pocket.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Sharpy throws him a mock salute with the hand not holding his camera, and steps to the side so Jonny can get to the door.

Jonny pointedly does not slam the door on Sharpy’s “Go get ‘im, tiger!” and stalks back towards his own room.

Halfway there, Jonny realizes what he’s just done – what he’s _doing_ – and has to stop and breathe. His chest is tight, and he feels a little like he’s vibrating, though his hands, when he looks at them, are steady. It takes him a minute to realize it’s excitement. Some nerves – because what if – and a little bit of anger that Sharpy’s seen the ring first – Jonny has more important things to do right now than go back and hit Sharpy in his smug face, he really, really does – but, mostly, it’s excitement. He takes another extra deep breath and pushes himself off the wall. He’s got this.

He hasn’t got this. He’s barely shut the door behind himself when Patrick shoves him backwards into it, and not in a fun kind of way.

“What the fuck, asshole? You say ‘marry me’ and then run away? What the hell is that?” Patrick is _pissed_.

In retrospect, probably not one of Jonny’s finest moments. He opens his mouth to – what? Apologize? Explain? Ask again? – but doesn’t even get a word out.

“Was it a joke?” Patrick demands. “Were you messing with me?”

Jonny shakes his head. “No, sorry, I hadn’t meant to – I just panicked and –”

Patrick’s fist connects solidly with Jonny’s stomach.

“The fuck, Kaner?” Jonny manages to wheeze out as Patrick backs away from him, face angrier than Jonny has probably ever seen it.

“I’m sorry accidentally proposing to me was so horrifying you felt you had to run off.” Patrick’s voice is cold.

Jonny shakes his head again. “No,” he says, tries to draw a full breath. Patrick hadn’t pulled that punch at all. “It wasn’t like that.”

Patrick eyes him. “What was it like, then?” His tone is still icy, but Jonny can hear the hurt in it, and that is never – _never_ – something he wants.

Jonny takes another breath, tries to settle the nerves that have almost swamped the excitement he was feeling what now seems like a lifetime ago. This isn’t how he wanted to do this, but there is zero doubt in his mind that this _is_ what he wants to do. He toes his duffle bag farther away from where he’d dropped it when Patrick initially slammed him into the door, and steps slowly towards Patrick, fumbling in his pocket for the ring box.

“Proposing didn’t make me panic,” he says carefully. “And I wasn’t proposing _because_ I was panicking,” he adds for good measure. “I was panicking because Sharpy had taken my bag and my.” He stops. Clears his throat. “I was going to plan this out,” he tries again. “I wanted it to be perfect. I hadn’t meant to just blurt it out, like I did. But it was like one minute I had no idea what I was doing, or _if_ I should be doing anything at all, and then you were just there, being, being _you_ , and I knew. It wasn’t even a question. I’d spent all this time worrying about it, and then I realized none of the things I was worrying about mattered. It was what I wanted – what I _want_. And if you want it too, well, we’ll figure everything else out.” He’s come to a stop right in front of Patrick.

Patrick, with his curls going in every direction like he’d had his hands in them the whole time Jonny was gone. Patrick, with color still high in his cheeks from anger. Patrick, who is now staring at Jonny like he’s the one that just got sucker punched, and he still can’t figure out how or why, or even if it hurt at all. “What are you saying?” Patrick’s voice comes out as a croak.

“I’m saying,” Jonny drops to one knee and flips open the little box, holding it up, “I’m _saying_ , I want you to marry me.”

Patrick’s eyes have gone wide, and his mouth has dropped open just a bit.

“Patrick Timothy Kane II, will you marry me?”

Patrick’s mouth works for a minute. “I.” He stops, eyes still wide as saucers, and Jonny never fully understood that saying until right now. “Sorry I punched you,” Patrick finally gets out, and then visibly shakes himself, and grabs Jonny by the wrists, hauling him up to his feet. “Yes,” he kisses Jonny firmly on the mouth, says it again against his lips, “Yes. Yes. Of course I’ll marry you, you fucking idiot.” And his hands are in Jonny’s hair now, tangling in the short strands and holding him where he wants him while he kisses Jonny breathless.

Jonny wraps one arm around Patrick’s waist, fingers sliding up under the hem of his shirt to get at warm skin, the other hand still clutching the ring box like a lifeline.

It’s several long minutes before they pull apart enough to breathe, and Patrick can’t seem to stop touching, fingers trailing lightly over Jonny’s neck, ears, cheeks, while he presses their foreheads together. “I can’t believe you,” he murmurs, “you fucking, _fucking_ idiot. Why do I love you so much?”

“No idea,” Jonny says honestly, tilts his head to press little kisses to Patrick’s mouth between words. “But you do, and you said yes. No take-backs.”

Patrick laughs, the sound vibrating over Jonny’s lips and through his bones. “You love me, too,” he prompts, and it’s confident – Jonny’s said it enough that it should be, and he just _proposed_ – but sometimes Patrick likes to hear it, likes to make Jonny say it.

“I love you, too,” Jonny repeats dutifully, nudges Patrick’s nose with his own before pressing a kiss to the tip of it. Sometimes he likes to make Patrick work for it, but if ever there was a time to indulge both of them, it’s now. At least a little bit. “I love you so much, I’ll let you be the one to tell Coach,” he whispers soft into the space between their mouths, like a secret, and then closes the distance, swallowing the sound as Patrick laughs again.


End file.
